


we can be heroes everywhere we go

by honeywaves



Series: what are you afraid of? [2]
Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Different Powers, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, M/M, Romance, TW: Mentions of injuries, TW: Violence, tw: mentions of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26805550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeywaves/pseuds/honeywaves
Summary: Beomgyu loves the rush of adrenaline in a fight—it doesn't matter if he ends up with a bruised cheek and broken knuckles, he'd do it over and over again. He spent so many nights winning every fight there is in the dome, that the taste of victory is something he has become addicted to.That is, of course, Yeonjun steps into the picture and ruins him.
Relationships: Choi Beomgyu/Choi Yeonjun
Series: what are you afraid of? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899286
Comments: 16
Kudos: 92





	we can be heroes everywhere we go

**Author's Note:**

> hey! so this is the beomjun side of the tyunning fic i posted before. you don't have to read the first part but it'll be helpful since i made a lot of references to how the underground fighting works for them and how their powers work. :D 
> 
> i hope you all enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing this and please ignore any mistakes that you might see. ㅜㅜ
> 
> (p.s. the events that took place here happened before the tyunning part.) 
> 
> (title is taken from the score's unstoppable.)

Beomgyu always lived his whole life as the odd one.

Growing up in his family—a family with sparks of flame resting across the lines of their palms, seeing the world crumble beneath their feet as the fire rushes on the ground—it's so natural for him to think that he'll have a power like that. He'd sit right outside of the dome where they would train together, eyes bright with wonder as he stared at his brothers with fires lighting on the tips of their fingers. He'd see the way the fire crashes against the thick glass, hurriedly breaking itself apart into a million of sparks that die as soon as they touch the ground.

It was so fascinating to see everything that he wanted it. He never wanted something so much until he saw the action unfold by itself—he wanted the warmth to seep through his veins, feeling the fire graze along his skin.

And so, as he turned nine, he felt his world shift out of focus before it tipped over, crashing right into the ground. The sound of his world breaking into a million pieces could never compare to the rush of blood pounding in his ears when he felt the graze of the cold wind weighed itself on his bones. No matter how much he tried to reach out and copy every twist of the wrist, every snap of the fingers that his brothers had done—all he could ever feel was the wind tightening itself around his body. 

It felt so cold. It was nothing like the warmth that he craved for so much.

He felt so dizzy that he fell right onto the ground, wishing so desperately that he would sink right through the soil. Maybe then he would feel the warmth, the swiveling heat of the Earth—that was so much better than the cold that constantly wrapped itself around his frame.

 _It's a part of you._ His mother had quietly whispered to him one night when he was tucked right into the sheets of his bed, fingers brushing through his strands. Her hand felt so warm against his scalp, forcing a small sigh of relief to fall from his lips as he unknowingly leaned in closer. Even without raising his head, he knew that his mother was wearing that same fond smile that she always showed to him. _Your grandmother was like that too._

 _What do you mean?_ He murmured, glassy eyes fixating themselves on her. Through the darkness blanketing over their bodies that night, with her sitting on the edge of his bed, he could still feel so much of her warmth. It was a comfort—a comfort that he despised because it reminded him of what he could never have.

She laughed though—a full laugh that reminded Beomgyu of bright Sunday mornings, when the daylight has only begun to fall right through the curtains of his bedroom. The sound left him with a slight smile curving along the edges of his mouth.

_She was a windweaver, just like you._

That was the first time he knew of what he was—he finally found a name that he was searching for days and weeks now. He was nothing like a burner, like the rest of his family but the name felt familiar nevertheless.

Like a home that he didn't know that he had.

Beomgyu still felt more like an outsider whenever he trudged along with his family to start training in the daylight. Of course, he had a training that was set aside for him. He used to spend his days watching his parents train his two brothers down the little dome that they kept for themselves. Something that his grandparents built for them years ago, once they realized that the rest of the family needed somewhere to stay to enhance their abilities.

It was meticulously hidden at the edge of the fields near their house—no one had ever gone past the dark line that they traced along the ground. Anyone who doesn't have a hint of magic rushing through their veins are never allowed to cross the boundaries. That's why it's fascinating for Beomgyu whenever he crossed the threshold, feeling the invisible wall slowly dissipate just enough for him to pass through. Beyond that, an abandoned warehouse sits at the edge and at that point, Beomgyu had become familiar with the handles of the doors whenever they pushed through them, casting his gaze to the lone dome standing at the center. 

The excitement would soon fade away as he found himself settling at the bench nearby, seeing his parents and brothers easily weave through the entrance of the dome. He'd stay outside, constantly longing to feel a hint of the warmth that he catches sight of every time he sees the fire graze along the ground or in the atmosphere. The smoke was filtered right through the vents and it was such a crystal clear sight of seeing the fight break out between his two brothers as they trained together. 

Because of the vast difference in their powers and skills, Beomgyu had to stay behind the glass. Only watching his brothers throw insults back and forth with laughs in between; the fire was such a good company for them. He didn't know how many weeks he spent his time like that but he did know that it was such a long time—his parents had to enlist help from distant relatives, who are known to be wind manipulators too.

 _They're the best,_ His father had reassured him when he was ten as they stood in the middle of the field, seeing the stretch of the blue skies above their heads. _You don't have anything to worry about, son._

He wasn't wrong though. Beomgyu never had an ounce of an idea that his connections were tightly wound with windweavers that are famously known to cause destruction. Raining havoc and chaos everywhere they go, if they have ever wanted to.

Even as a child though, Beomgyu never understood any of that. All he felt was the anger at the hands of fate because why? Why was he the only one who had to feel the cold wind sink right through his bones, like it was a part of him? 

He didn't want it to be a part of him.

But of course, it was bound to change—his mother always told him that it was a part of him. That he had to learn to love that part of him or else, he would lose control of it completely and then, it would dissipate slowly from his body. 

Like it never was there in the first place. 

On his first day of training, Beomgyu's focus slowly started to change. He sat on the edge of the field that day, seeing an older man with a scar cut right across his cheek walk calmly to the center of it before he raised a hand. 

There was a shift in the air, like it had become colder. It wasn't noticeable at first but the more Beomgyu stayed there, the colder it felt—he was left with his teeth chattering as he wrapped his arms around his frame. He was staring at the darkening sky, his heart rising to his throat as he watched the same man stand right at the center. 

He didn't realize at that time why he felt so afraid.

But soon the air was shifting so fast—it was turning so quickly that Beomgyu could see it so clearly. The trees were rattling so hard that the branches were colliding against each other, the grass ripping itself apart from the ground. Beomgyu felt the cold, _cold_ fear grip his chest, silencing the scream that almost fell from his lips as he watched the air turn and turn until he was getting lightheaded.

That was the first of the many hurricanes that Beomgyu had ever seen.

Many of the others that have followed came from his fingers. Through the air in his lungs, through the cold wind draping itself along his bones. He felt it everywhere and nothing— _nothing_ had ever given him so much power before.

For a moment in his life, he felt dangerous. As if he could leave the world crumbling into ashes and force it to rest before his feet, whisper mercies to him like he always wanted.

Power was such a dangerous thing, isn't it? Beomgyu never wanted anything more until it finally started to sink right through the lines of his palms. As much as he wanted to stop, he couldn't get rid of his craving for the adrenaline rush.

It was never enough for him that he could train his skills over and over again. Because he was at the point of his life that he wanted to show to the rest of the world that even if he did not have the fire lingering at his wrists, he was just as powerful. He could make the world fall right to its knees, if he wanted to.

But his parents never approved it. Even if they had the power to leave the world burning right behind them, they chose to quietly show their wrists to the world, to expose their vulnerability. For two people who could reign in hell and leave the flames sinking right through the cold ground, they were nothing but silent as they lowered their heads and tried to go through their lives like they were powerless.

Beomgyu always knew that they were different from many others. But that didn't mean that he had to hide himself—how could they stand it after all? You will always feel the itch settle around your wrist, under your fingernails—lingering at the back of your throat. Or seeping right through your bones as your body begs over and over again for you to use your power completely.

His parents have long stopped training, choosing to keep quiet. _Because it's easier to do this,_ they whispered to him when he asked them one night, when he was fifteen. He was older now—he knew better than to sink right through the sheets of his bed and accept everything.

 _How is it easier?_ The words came out harsher through his gritted teeth but he made no move to apologize. As much as he wanted to, his pride was taking a hold of him these days, forcing him to continue right through his sentences. _Don't you want more? Doesn't your power want more from you?_

_Trust us, Beomgyu-yah. You'll understand once you get older._

Then he saw it—the sadness in his mother's eyes. The refusal of his father to meet his eyes and leave him vulnerable when he spent more than half of his life trying not to break. They didn't want to do this, did they?

That left with a clenched jaw and his eyes narrowing before he left them sitting on the couch. As he let his feet rest against the fourth step of the staircase, he tightened his grip around the railing as the air left his lungs that night. He let his eyes fall shut, the world dropping dead right by his feet.

When he opened his eyes, he was staring at the last steps left between him and the vast hallway leading to his bedroom. It left him with an ache in his chest as he shook his head, trying his best to silence the noise crashing along his bones.

_You'll understand once you get older._

If getting older means that he would lose himself, then Beomgyu would rather let this world burn now than to have the regrets chase after him years later.

* * *

"Are you really heading over there today?"

It's the first words that Beomgyu hears as he settles right onto the chair in the middle of the bustling café. Raising his head, he catches sight of Soobin staring back at him with a frown on his lips. He feels the edges of his own mouth twitch the slightest but he doesn't let a smile draw itself across it. He knows that showing a hint of amusement right now will trigger the annoyance from the other boy and honestly, he does _not_ need anything that will dampen his high spirits.

Even if Beomgyu had never felt the warmth of the fire rest along his palms, he was still consumed by his rage of emotions. _That's the consequence of having a power like that in our family,_ his older brother shrugged his shoulders as he took a sip from his cup of coffee one morning, _you're ruled by the fire, which influences a part of your identity. In this case, it's our emotions._

Beomgyu had long since thought it was unfair that his emotions constantly acted up while he still felt the coldness of the wind cling tightly to his bones.

"Listen, hyung, this isn't my first rodeo. I've done this countless times already—I think I look best with a bloody fist and a bruised cheek, yes?"

"Are you even hearing yourself right now? You look like an absolute _idiot_ when you come rushing down from the dome and you're smiling at me with a cut across your cheek."

"I think I look absolutely _perfect_ even with a cut on my cheek." 

Though Soobin's lips are twisted into a deep frown, it's a stark contrast to the lighthearted laugh that leaves Beomgyu's lips. They've always been like this—best friends that banter every now and then. Never really seeing eye to eye, if Beomgyu is being honest with himself. They often collided into each other, rough opinions that don't fit each other at the edges but Beomgyu liked it.

Soobin had always been the one who could be honest with him in a heartbeat. And Beomgyu had done the same, since they were much younger.

Maybe it's because in a way, they're similar—Soobin does not like his power either. If Beomgyu's power can be exposed in a single breath, it's more difficult to even get the slightest hint of what Soobin carries in himself.

They only noticed it when Beomgyu was thirteen and Soobin had yet to turn fourteen. Sitting side by side on the ground as the sunlight poured itself over their heads, they had fallen right through another argument that could not find its end. Twisting through pages and words, Beomgyu remained stubborn, not showing any sign to Soobin that he even thought of changing his stance.

Lips shut tight and a firm gaze fixated on the taller boy—that's the look that Soobin had become familiar with. He knew in himself that Beomgyu would never crack, no matter how many hours have passed and so, he almost resigned himself to losing once again.

Keyword here is _almost._

He didn't even notice it at first. He only stared right through Beomgyu with a frown, feeling a wave of nausea hit him but the thoughts were so clear in his head—almost as if he was shifting through the younger boy's thoughts. It was amusing but Soobin soon found himself thinking about his own side of the argument again. It was nothing but a passing thought that he let go of easily.

But it only took a heartbeat before he saw Beomgyu crumble, his eyes widening as he grabbed Soobin's arm, tightening his fingers around it. And with a shaky voice, he quietly whispered, "I take back my words. You're right."

Beomgyu had never conceded. He never liked giving up, even if he was absolutely wrong already. To see him like that—as if he had succumbed fully right into Soobin's words, a quiet submission of losing his side, it frightened Soobin. But to thank the heavens, it didn't stretch out for so long.

The younger boy had stumbled right out of his reverie, lips parting, only to let the silence slip past. He looked dazed, as if he didn't understand what happened as he glanced down at the way his fingers had wrapped around Soobin's arm, hastily pulling away with a frown.

"What the hell? What happened?"

It took Soobin a few shuddering breaths before he asked him, "What are you talking about? Do you not remember?"

"Remember what?"

"You," Soobin faltered then, as if he was hesitating. The obvious sign of him stopping himself from speaking as his gaze fell on the other boy, gouging out his confused expression. Swallowing, he pushed right through his words, shaking his head. "You just gave up on your side like that. When I looked at you, I could— _hear_ your thoughts and I just... influenced your decision." When he realized the words that have fallen from his lips, he felt the ice-cold fear grip his rib cage, trying to backtrack as much as he could, "Or I think I did."

Beomgyu wanted to laugh—it just sounded so ridiculous. He knew that Soobin had come from a normal family. He wasn't supposed to have powers.

But as he glanced over at his best friend, he felt the disturbance. A shift of something, like it had been yearning to break right through the crack. Though Beomgyu had known him for years at that moment, it was as if something had completely changed about Soobin.

Who knew that it would lead to him with a power that was greater than his?

A whisper—that's what Soobin was called. That's what his family was called because apparently, his family had tried their hardest to bury the remnants of a power drifting through their blood. But a power like that—a power where they could manipulate the mind of someone else—how could it be buried? It was a curse that Soobin would carry in himself for the years to come.

But if you asked Beomgyu, he wouldn't mind a power like that. It wasn't everyday that you would cross paths with a whisper because they were rare and as far as Beomgyu knew, they were chased down by the government. A humanized weapon that could bring their enemies to their knees and force them to surrender. 

He figures that he understands where Soobin's parents were coming from when they chose to hide a power like that.

Still, he wonders how Soobin would be in a fight. Even if he's physically not as strong as the others are, he could force the enemy to drop dead if he wanted to. It's a thought that Beomgyu hides in the corners of his mind. Maybe one day, he could convince him to do it for a night—who knows if he'll love the adrenaline too?

"You know, this isn't the same fight that you've been going to since two years ago." Soobin shifts in his seat, a little uncomfortable as he gazes at him with worry. "Tonight is different."

He feels it—the anxiety that rests upon the hollow base of his throat. It wraps itself around his throat, tightening his hold with every second that escapes past their fingertips. Beomgyu doesn't let himself crack though, there's no worth in stressing out his best friend. Besides, he has too much pride to admit to Soobin that he's right yet again.

"It's not that different. Might be relatively easier since we're playing in teams now."

Soobin scoffs, eyes narrowing as he clenches his jaw in annoyance, "You're talking as if this is nothing but a game of tag that you're playing."

"Because it is! No one has ever died in a game like this before—" 

"You could _die,_ Choi Beomgyu. Do you not realize that?" 

Soobin grits his teeth, fingers wrapping themselves around the edge of the table. It's as if the rest of the café has fallen silent—Beomgyu knew that the noise is still lingering there, all around him. But right now, he's staring at the darkness tugging at the edges of Soobin's eyes and he feels nothing but fear.

"Don't look at me like that, hyung." It takes everything in Beomgyu to let his gaze drift to the table. He's starting to feel Soobin shifting through his thoughts again, waving a hand dismissively in a feeble attempt to make him lose focus. "You're doing it again."

That's what breaks Soobin—he blinks and swallows thickly as he settles back into his chair. He stills looks like he's on edge about the thought of having this power; it leaves him with an ache to hide it at the corners of his body. Constantly hoping that he would never have to use it for his own good in the future. "Sorry, I didn't mean to."

It's easy for Beomgyu to let go of it though. A wave of his hand, a shrug of his shoulders as he takes a sip of the coffee sitting on the table. "You know, I could only imagine how powerful you would be if you came with me to today's game."

Soobin only arches a brow, feeling the slight twitch of his lips. He heaves out a sigh, shaking his head as if he's in disbelief. "You're telling a lawyer like me to partake in illegal activities."

Beomgyu lets a smile curve along his lips, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "It's not exactly illegal—"

"Gyu-yah, it's underground fighting. Using magic." 

With a sigh, the younger boy sinks right into the seat with a soft huff falling from his lips. "Fine, I get it. You're boring and hate fun stuff." They've had this conversation one too many times already. On other days, it's in the middle of them drinking beer at the local bar, their knees knocking against each other as they sat side by side on the stools. Sometimes, it comes up when Beomgyu bounds right into the corporate office where Soobin works at, his eyes still bright with excitement as he tries to rope the older boy into one of their many games.

Unfortunately for Beomgyu, he has an indulgence for some... well, borderline _illegal_ activities.

"If you really hate this place then how come you never ratted it out to the authorities? As far as I knew, you've got a strong moral compass, _Lawyer_ Choi Soobin."

He likes to call him that because even if it's true, it still irks Soobin's ears to hear the sarcastic tone wrapped around Beomgyu's words. But he knows that Beomgyu would never stop even if he tells him off and so, he lets a sigh fall from his lips. There's the heat rushing to his cheeks and he looks like he's caught in the hands of embarrassment.

"You're there, Beomgyu. I can't risk the police catching you, even if you're always getting into trouble."

Beomgyu beams brightly at the sound of his answer. Of course he knows that—Soobin had always been his hesitant partner-in-crime as they grew up. They only stopped when they were caught by Soobin's parents and god, Beomgyu was absolutely terrified when they lowered their gazes on him, dark eyes pinned on his frame.

Ever since then, their friendship took a mellow turn. Or more like, Soobin could finally breathe as he let his best friend stumble into the tangles of breaking the rules.

"Aw, hyung, you love me so much, don't you?"

The dark haired boy looks like he has more to say—another insult, like he always carelessly throws. But instead, there's only a glint of trouble in his eyes as he leans in, closing the distance between them.

Oh, Beomgyu does _not_ like that look at all.

"There's another reason too, you know."

Now, that's interesting. Beomgyu quirks a brow, expecting an answer that sounds like _I've always been interested in fighting in the dome because corporate work can be so boring._

A far-fetched idea but still.

Of course, Soobin always knew everything about Beomgyu. All the little things that he loves the most—even the things that apparently leaves him more annoyed than usual.

"I wouldn't want to be the villain in the love story between you and Yeonjun."

_Yeonjun._

It's a pretty name. But somehow, it leaves Beomgyu with a bad taste at the back of his throat and an ache that weighs heavily down his bones. He used to think that name itself is pretty and _of course_ the name that it belongs to is even more stunning that Beomgyu had ever once imagined before.

But god, he hates him more than he could ever say about anyone.

"Don't you ever mention that name to me again," Beomgyu narrows his eyes at the other boy, a stern glare right at his direction. "Unless it's followed by how absolutely terrible he is."

"Terribly gorgeous, you mean?"

"Oh, fuck off."

This time, it's as if the roles have been reversed—Beomgyu has his lips twisted into a deep frown while a lighthearted laugh spills from Soobin's lips. Beomgyu grudgingly decides that there are unfortunately more downsides to this friendship more than he would like to admit.

One, he can't seem to keep his mouth shut whenever he has a secret lodged in the spaces of his ribs. It comes spilling past his lips without much of a prodding from Soobin. He thinks that it's because Soobin always radiated the power of making anyone say the truth without them meaning to. An unconscious action on Soobin's part, especially when he knows that Beomgyu can be on edge if he's hiding something. A flick of his wrist, dark eyes falling on Beomgyu—the younger boy is bound to bend and break at one point. 

And two, Soobin can never keep quiet whenever one of those secrets comes out. Unfortunately for Beomgyu, he seems to have taken a liking to the one hushed thought in Beomgyu's head months ago.

A name and a pretty face—how could anyone forget someone like him?

"It doesn't make sense to me that the two of you have been playing this game for months now, Beomgyu."

"Well, what's a little game of cat and mouse?" His eyes are bright with mischief as he leans away from Soobin, a smile playing along his lips. "It makes the chase thrilling whenever we have to fight."

"God," Soobin lets out a deep sigh, running a hand through his strands before his gaze flickers over to the younger boy, as if he's already on the verge of exasperation. "You are so infuriating, do you know that?"

"One of my many qualities that makes me desirable, I suppose."

"I think even Yeonjun would agree with that." 

All he receives as an answer from Beomgyu is a scowl and narrowed eyes directed at him. He flicks his wrist out of annoyance, catching Soobin by surprise when he feels the coldness of the wind cling around his bones. Often one of the things that Beomgyu does without realizing it, especially when his emotions are constantly colliding against each other.

"Hyung, I know that you hate going with me to the fights but," Beomgyu shifts closer, feeling the edge of nervousness cling tightly to him. He stares at the older boy with worry tinted in his eyes, teeth sinking right onto his lower lip. "It would mean a lot to me if you went with me there tonight."

It didn't miss his line of sight the way Soobin slowly becomes uncomfortable. It didn't matter to someone like Soobin that in the dome, he could finally let himself go—no longer hiding himself from what he was. There was no one in there who would be willing enough to talk about the fights right outside of the dome.

Except for Beomgyu and Soobin, of course.

"I have work though," A shaky sigh slips past, eyes flickering away from Beomgyu's expression to let them fall on the surface of the table instead. "And I don't want Taehyun to see me there." As Beomgyu parts his lips to say what's lingering in his head, Soobin cuts in quickly with words coming out harsher than he intended them to be. "He doesn't know that I'm a whisper, Beomgyu. I don't want him to know about it either."

Beomgyu has so many words to say right now but he eventually lets those thoughts go. It's not like Soobin can't hear him right now—if he wanted a taste of raw honesty, he could delve right through Beomgyu's thoughts and the younger boy would fall to his knees without a beat of hesitation. But Soobin has a stronger moral compass than that and Beomgyu never liked the sensation of fingers sifting through every thought and memory, like someone violating his secrets.

"Fine, I understand."

Honestly, he wanted to drop the topic—he already knows that Soobin is as stubborn as he is. There's no use of trying not to convince him otherwise because that feels more like he's trying to do an impossibility. But as Beomgyu readies himself to get through another thought, Soobin speaks up. Voice soft as ever but there's a strange firmness in it.

Like he doesn't want Beomgyu to doubt him.

"I'll be there, Gyu-yah."

Those words are enough for the light to come back to Beomgyu's eyes. A bright smile curves along his lips, taking a sip from his iced coffee before breathing out a sigh of relief.

"I knew that you'd break eventually."

Soobin doesn't say anything though he does roll his eyes with a smile lingering along his lips. Beomgyu is right—Soobin would break when it comes to him. Even if Soobin has the danger tugging at the tips of his fingers, Beomgyu was even more powerful than him.

What's more powerful than to have a whisper break just for you?

But that doesn't matter to Beomgyu—after all, he wouldn't let anything or anyone lay a finger on his best friend. And he knows that Soobin would be there for him too, even if it would cost him his life along the line. 

* * *

Beomgyu had spent so many nights dreaming about this. 

Two years have passed by his fingers like a blur of memories strung along in a string. There were so many days, weeks, and months that he could no longer remember the very moment when he first felt the exhilaration when he left the enemy crumbling right by his feet. There's only such a rush of adrenaline in him that he will only get when he presses the heel of his boot against someone's chest, hearing the hitch in their breath before they weakly yell out, "I concede!" 

It's such a sweet, sweet victory that Beomgyu could not get rid of his longingness for it. 

For someone like Beomgyu, it has become a daily fixation. That no matter who he faces off in the dome, he'll eventually learn just quick enough on how he'll leave them crashing to the ground as they break into pieces. Constantly kneeling by his feet to whisper mercies and let him spare them from any more from Beomgyu's ruthlessness in the dome. 

And so, when he let his pride take a grip of it, he took a bigger hit the first time he had to fall to his knees. It had been so long since he felt the bruises along his cheeks and jaw, the thickness of blood lingering at the back of his throat—he's not supposed to know these feelings anymore. He was supposed to be drunk on the feeling of adrenaline in winning yet another match. 

But that night, he knelt on the ground and stared coldly at the boy in front of him. He could barely pick himself up from the ground because every breath he took, it felt like his ribs were collapsing against his lungs. Piercing right through and taking away the breath that lingered on his lips. It took everything—absolutely everything—in him to finally let the words _I concede_ fall from his lips. Blood seeped around his words and he wouldn't be surprised if they lingered in the atmosphere.

Of course, it's Yeonjun that would ruin him. 

On any other night, he would have thought that Yeonjun is pretty. Someone that is worth paying attention to, seeing how he always seems like he's carrying so many mysteries at the palms of his hands. In a way, Beomgyu is right—he's a mystery that he's still trying to unravel until now.

Before he had thought of letting him lose to him, he spent most of his time with his eyes trailing after Yeonjun. Even if everyone's gaze would follow him, he never bothered enough to notice them or even say a word of greeting. But through the crowd, when his eyes fell on Beomgyu's frame, it took a moment before his lips twitched into a smile, looking away.

He has such a gorgeous smile too, goddamn.

If he's being honest with himself, never would have tasted this rush of adrenaline if his brothers didn't bring him here on the eve of his nineteenth birthday. _Go wild,_ he felt a rough push on his shoulder when his older brother smiled widely at him when Beomgyu's name was called, summoning him over to the dome. _Remember everything we taught you in training._

And that's what Beomgyu had done. He had picked apart how his enemy moved on his feet—a shadow. Often falling into the light and darkness, making anyone lose sight of them. It didn't take long for Beomgyu to reach out and force them to fall to their knees as he slowly made them lose their grip on their air. With a rough rasp of their throat, they yelled, "I concede!" 

That was the first of the many nights when Beomgyu was chased by victory. 

Beomgyu became so good at picking up the littlest details, tearing them apart so he could see the clues. A flicker of flame resting in someone's flame is a telltale sign that they're a burner. If someone is often shifting from one foot to another, Beomgyu can already tell that they're a teleporter—someone who's too quick on their feet. Those small details are enough for Beomgyu to figure out how they will move, how they react if they're cornered.

After all, people are not as complex that they like to think of themselves to be. There are patterns, signs that pass by too fast that if no one is paying attention then they would have fallen back into the safety of the darkness. Unfortunately for them, Beomgyu was trained since he was younger to figure out how to defend himself.

That's why it left him with the dread settling in his stomach when he stood in the dome, hearing his name and Yeonjun's name come together.

"Choi Beomgyu, windweaver," A stretch of a pause before the announcer spoke again, "And Choi Yeonjun, mimic."

Beomgyu had heard of that title before—a mimic. He heard the word drift through his classes. Or between his brothers whenever they talked in hushed whispers about their own fights in the same dome that Beomgyu was standing inside. But he never had a tight grasp of what he truly was. Or what Yeonjun ever had the capability to do in a single breath.

It didn't take such a long time though. Even if Beomgyu had tried to stay on his feet, he was caught by surprise at how powerful Yeonjun is—quick on his feet like a teleporter. Bending the light to his will and often disappearing like a shadow. It was terrible at how Yeonjun knew so much and how he had managed to hurt Beomgyu in every single turn without much of a bated breath and a lazy smirk drawn across his mouth.

"Come on, Choi Beomgyu." There was a taunting tone around his words, his eyes bright with trouble and mischief. Beomgyu had stumbled to the ground, blood dripping from the corner of his lips as he winced at the bruise that was forming at his ribs. Yeonjun didn't even take a beat of hesitation before he roughly forced the other boy to fall to his knees by landing a kick right up to his stomach. He felt the wind get knocked out of him, sinking to the ground with a pained cry and tears clinging to his lashes. 

"I thought you said that you're a god." His steps resonated against the ground and Beomgyu felt a harsh pull on his shirt, forcing him to stare at Yeonjun with teary eyes. Yeonjun smiled at him rather coldly, tilting his head as he dropped his voice into a murmur. Words that only Beomgyu would hear but still, it left a shiver down his spine.

"But why are you the one kneeling right now?"

"I—" Beomgyu choked on the air, his ribs puncturing his lungs. It hurt so much to breathe and he knew that his body was on the verge of giving up. And so, with a harsh whisper, he felt himself collapse as the words spilled from his lips. "I concede."

That was the first of the many nights when Beomgyu felt the heavy failure wrap itself around his bones. A loud, _loud_ echo of everything he wanted to be was now falling into pieces.

Beomgyu hated how Yeonjun had learned everything about him so quickly while it took him a week to realize what Yeonjun's powers are. A mimic is someone that can carry so many abilities at once but there are limitations to these powers. They can memorize every flick of someone's wrist and every rough push and pull in a fight before they can pick up the ability. But they could never achieve the highest potential of an ability could ever reach—they would have to make use of what they know and figure out how they would not be broken down in a fight.

It didn't take long before Yeonjun had studied every move that Beomgyu made in a fight in and out of the dome, every breath that left his lips before he hastily picked up his ability of manipulating the wind. And goddamn, he was so good at it that he became even more infuriating whenever Beomgyu had to face off with him in another fight in the dome.

 _Don't worry, pretty._ Yeonjun would always say to him whenever the fight fell to a quiet stop and the older boy had won again. _You can always do better. But know that I won't let you win that easily._

Beomgyu did win every now and then. But it barely left a dent in Yeonjun's nearly clean record of 91 wins and 5 losses. Beomgyu can't even remember the last time he ever left Yeonjun breathless and aching, murmuring under his breath, _I concede._

At this point, Beomgyu doesn't want to hear it from other people. He wants to hear them fall from Yeonjun's lips and see the fear run through his dark eyes. See him crumble under his fingertips, like he should have done the very first time they fell into that fight.

After all, he wasn't wrong—he's a god, isn't he? 

Maybe tonight, the world will finally be consumed by the rage that he carries inside of himself. 

A flicker of a flame at a time. 

* * *

His footsteps feel heavy against the pavement as he traces his way down the street. It's empty and quiet—with the exception of Beomgyu walking as hastily as he could. He knows that the streets can be quiet for a breath at this time; it's nearly two in the morning and yet, the adrenaline is still rushing through his veins. His blood is pounding in his ears, reminding of where he's heading over to at this time of the night.

For a street that's as dark and abandoned as the one he's walking through right now, he's still stunned into surprise when he sees the stadium standing a few feet away from him. Bright lights that casted a soft glow all around the building and it looked absolutely stunning. Almost like a hazy dream that Beomgyu does not want to wake up from.

This isn't the usual spot where he would have his fights—for years, he had gone down the trail leading to an abandoned warehouse that's only accessible to anyone who has a hint of magic in their blood. The doors will only open if they have detected that you have powers—after all, no one is drawn to a decrepit-looking warehouse unless you're looking for an adrenaline rush every night. 

But tonight though, it's different. Tonight marks the twenty fifth year since the underground fights had burst through their history and so they have gone out their way to rebuild the demolished stadium that they all used before. All in the effort to leave an impression that will leave everyone wanting more.

They've rearranged everything that even Beomgyu can't fight off the adrenaline and curiosity coursing itself through his veins. His blood is pounding in his ears as he walks up to the stadium, admiring every stone that's set in place—all for a night. Once the dawn breaks through, every piece will fall again and become another demolished mess.

But tonight, if the walls could speak, they would speak of the blood and magic they have seen.

Beomgyu drifts through the shadows, standing right in front of the entrance. A scanner flickers to life, running down his body before a quiet creak echoes through the night as the doors slide open. This is it—this night is the night that he has been waiting for so long already.

He steps past the entrance and all at once, the doors fall shut in a thud. It's eerily silent as he walks calmly down the narrow hallway, eyes fixated on the other set of doors at the end. As he gets closer, he hears the screams echoing so loudly that he has to steer himself from having a breakdown right before he reaches the doors.

 _You're going to be fine,_ Beomgyu murmurs to himself, the tightness around his throat is leaving him more breathless than ever as he walks closer to the doors. Shakily, he reaches out and lets his fingers wrap around the handles before he pushes them open.

Bright lights burst right through and all at once, he's overwhelmed. The stands are filled with people; so many people who are like him. The only difference is that their powers now have a wide range—from manipulators of greenery, of metal to the ones who could make _anything_ explode if they will it to be.

The only similarity they have? All of them are being chased down by the government. For the sole reason that they are different, that they're criminals who deserve to be thrown into jail.

Beomgyu rolls his eyes at the thought of it. As if anyone would last in a jail cell for even five seconds without making a foolproof plan of how they're going to escape.

The screams are still deafening as Beomgyu heads over to the stands first, gaze flickering from person in there. _Where's Soobin hyung?_ He feels the squeeze in his chest as his throat becomes dry, pushing through the crowd. _He promised me that he'll watch me play tonight._

"Hyung? Beomgyu hyung?"

He falls still at the sound of his name echoing, glancing over his shoulder. Out of all the people, he didn't expect to be greeted with a wide smile from the one and only person that's easily feared by many.

_Hueningkai._

One of the founders' sons and of course, the only one who still hasn't lost a single fight. Even Beomgyu can't deny how powerful Kai is, considering that he's a manipulator of the lightning. That's a fight that Beomgyu had willingly yelled out _I concede!_ because his body won't stop shaking after being electrocuted so many times.

But even if Kai is frightening to fight with, he still somehow has that childlike charm and innocence that reminds Beomgyu that _oh, right, he's younger than me._ With bright eyes and an even brighter smile, Beomgyu sometimes forgets how much power Kai carries in himself. Especially right now, when Kai wraps an arm around his shoulder to steer him into an emptier spot in the crowd.

"I'm so glad that you signed up to be in today's game. So many people signed up too but we only picked the ones who have the best track record."

"Does that mean that you're in?"

Beomgyu casts a worried look at him but Kai only lets out a laugh, shaking his head as they gaze out at the field. "No, I can't join tonight. Guess I have to sit next to my father at the box and figure out how to not fall asleep in boredom."

"You can just stare at Taehyun. I'm sure you'll be entertained enough when you see him on the field."

There's a rush of heat on Kai's cheeks and this time, the laugh comes from Beomgyu's lips as he reaches out to gently pat them. "Don't worry, Hueningie, your secret is safe with me."

"I don't like him."

It's all that Kai says to him, trying to will down the blush as he ties the bored tone around his words. But Beomgyu isn't one that's easily convinced but either way, he's amused at this cat and mouse game that they're planning. Both Kai and Taehyun are fond of each other in the dome whenever they fight—even if they say otherwise.

Admittedly, Beomgyu thinks that's strange but then again, there's not an ounce of normalcy in their blood.

"Anyway, I'll see you on the field, hyung. Don't die."

"Thanks for the advice." Beomgyu replies rather dryly, which earns another lighthearted laugh that bubbles from Kai's lips. He moves away, waving a hand before he crosses the field to head over to the top box perched at the center of the stands, where he would see the action unfold before him without breaking a sweat.

Still, Beomgyu is nowhere near to finding Soobin tonight.

"Beomgyu! I'm here!"

 _Ah, speak of the devil,_ Beomgyu lets his gaze fall on the stands by his right, seeing Soobin sitting at the edge. _And he shall appear._ A wide smile does curve along Beomgyu's lips as he hurries over to the stands, his heart pounding against his rib cage and drowning out the chatter and cheers all around him. 

When he's close enough to his best friend, he arches a brow at the sight of the crisp suit wrapped around Soobin's frame, "Just got out of work, huh?" Soobin only elicits a groan as Beomgyu squeezes himself in the small and empty space beside him, their knees pressed up against each other as they stare at the empty field.

"I had to leave the office first because Taehyun will never leave unless I do it first. Had to walk around for a bit until I was sure that he had left already before I headed over here."

"I still don't see why you won't let him know that you have powers too. You're attracted to him, aren't you?"

"What?" Soobin gazes at him with wide eyes and a furious blush colored on his cheeks. A nervous laugh spills from his mouth, hurriedly looking away. "I'm not attracted to him."

"Idiot, I meant that you naturally gravitate over to him, don't you? Your body can sense it if someone else has powers, even if you don't have any idea what their power is."

Now that Beomgyu thinks about it, he did feel that pull with Soobin when they were kids. He only ignored it because _well,_ they're kids. And he trusted Soobin when he said that he came from a normal family, that he doesn't have any power.

"I don't think Taehyun notices it though. Besides, he's usually on edge and fidgety every time we talk."

"He probably needed to unwind today. I haven't seen him in the fights for the past week—he's bound to make an appearance today unless you want him to lose control and burn your office down."

Beomgyu waves a hand dismissively, ignoring the flicker of horror and confusion written all over Soobin's expression. He only casts a glance over at his side, raising a brow. "How about you though? How come you never felt the urge to use your power in a fight?"

Soobin gently nudges him when the lights have started to dim over their heads. His eyes are bright though and the smile that curved itself across his mouth is filled with mischief. "I got you as my training ground. Especially whenever we get into those fights." The younger boy could have easily ignored the words that left Soobin's lips, if the crowd around them didn't quiet down.

"I use it too, whenever I have to defend a client in court."

Beomgyu feels a chill run down his spine. He didn't expect that—Soobin stands on a strong moral compass, he wouldn't compromise his values for a win. But as he gazes at the other boy, there's only a pensive look drawn over his features, as if he didn't know what left his mouth. Or maybe he didn't care enough.

_Huh, that's strange._

"I need to go, hyung. I better hear you cheering for my team when the game starts."

"Don't die, Choi Beomgyu!"

Soobin calls out after him and a laugh falls from Beomgyu's lips. Shaking his head, he rushes down the stairs, his heart ramming itself against his rib cage. He has so many questions but he chooses to tuck them away at the corners of his mind—maybe one day he'll have the strength to ask Soobin to join him for a fight.

Just one little harmless fight.

His eyes drift over to the healers sitting by a bench, clearly on edge and paying too much attention on the players today. They could move quickly once anyone is on the verge of injuring themselves too much—no one has ever died at the hands of these healers. Every little bruise and cut would stitch themselves up and disappear until the fighters are left with nothing, not even scars.

Beomgyu heaves out a shaky sigh, ignoring the unsettling feeling in his stomach.

No one is going to die tonight. It's a harmless game of chase, after all.

* * *

On any other days, Beomgyu would be relentless in convincing his best friend to join him in a fight. _It'll be good for you,_ he'll tell the taller boy, fingers gripping his arm with a wide smile drawn across his lips. _Don't you find it so boring to work in an office like this?_

_You'd never be bored if you're always busy, Gyu-yah._

It's the same excuse that Soobin had thrown to him every now and then. But Beomgyu knew the truth—Soobin is afraid that he'll lose control. He says it's the rush of doing illegal that can make anyone's attention shift and chase after that adrenaline. Especially if you're constantly looking for a way to break yourself out of a routine.

"There's nothing illegal about this," Beomgyu had told him nights ago, shrugging his shoulders. "What's illegal about capture the flag?"

"First of all, you don't call the game like that—you call it _Thief._ And capture the flag isn't supposed to be a game that wagers your life and puts it on the line just for what, a victory to hang on your belt?"

Beomgyu knows that he's right. But he has too much pride to say it out loud and besides, Soobin doesn't need the younger boy's reassurance to tell him that most of the time, he's right.

He can feel the lightweight flag pressed against his hip as he glances at the belt where the little object is securely placed in. It's too light though—he won't feel it if someone is quick enough to rush across the ground and pull it away from him. If the flag is stolen away from him, he's out of the game.

It's boring if blood doesn't get to stain the ground tonight.

Specifically, he'd like to stain his knuckles with blood, as long as he sees Yeonjun crumble before him.

"Oh, looks like we're teammates."

It's the first words that are uttered to him when he makes his way over to the field. Even if he tries his hardest to mask his emotions, he still feels his lips twitch into a smile as he catches sight of Taehyun's red hair under the bright lights. He glances at the flag hanging from Beomgyu's belt, settling right next to him as the other team assembles on the far side of the field.

"I hope you haven't forgotten our little truce, Taehyun."

"Oh, hyung," Taehyun laughs, light and easy. As if he isn't stumbling into the ropes of trouble tonight. "You're the only one who can turn every little fight into a competition."

"Because it _is_ a competition."

"Trust me, some of us just want to unravel and relax from the stress of the real world."

Real world? Normalcy is boring and dull—Beomgyu wonders why Taehyun and Soobin would rather show their wrists, be vulnerable under the watchful gazes of the government. It's more thrilling to be on the run and hide beneath the shadows, live in the moment like he always does.

"Either way, I'm not losing tonight." When he glances at Taehyun, there's a storm of emotions colliding within him. He almost forgets that Taehyun is like his brothers—a ruthless burner in a fight. That means that Taehyun isn't one who will lose so easily because he's ruled by his pride that he keeps on rebuilding.

Taehyun meets his eyes and a smile curves along his lips. "We're not going to lose tonight."

That's all the red haired boy says before he breaks away, settling right into his position. The flag is pressed against his hip, feeling heavier than it should be. Beomgyu feels like the walls are closing all around him—reminding him that he's vulnerable for tonight.

In a game of _Thief,_ there's only one person who carries the flag—of course, the other team needs to do anything just to rush forward and pull the flag off from the belt. Everyone else in Beomgyu's team has to protect him from receiving a hit whilst thinking on their feet on what they should do to rip the flag from the other team. 

The only disadvantage that will play out for any of them is the constant flicker of the terrains changing. From a meadow where the weeds could cling to them, to a dungeon where their footsteps will echo, to a rainforest who can make them stumble through the roots if they're not careful—they need to adjust quickly and use everything around them to attack and defend themselves. 

It's harmless—it's supposed to be nothing but a light game of run and chase.

But as Beomgyu lets his gaze drift over to the other team, there's a hitch in his breath. He releases a shaky sigh, eyes narrowing at the other person who's carrying the flag on his belt.

Of fucking course, it had to be Choi Yeonjun.

"Hyung," He hears Taehyun's voice over the chatter. Their eyes meet and Beomgyu can only see the darkness in his gaze. "Don't die."

"No one dies in a game like this."

Beomgyu has lost count of how many times he has said those words out loud. But now, he's starting to notice the loss of confidence in his words. No one has ever died in any game or any fight at all in the dome—there are always healers around. And if the injuries are too extensive, they can rest in a small clinic nearby and make sure that they're fully healed.

That's why no one could ever die, right?

"Players, gather."

He quiets down the sound of his heart angrily ramming itself against his rib cage. There's no use of losing every nerve now, especially when he's carrying the flag. The team's pride—they'll have his neck if he ends up letting anyone from the other team, most especially Yeonjun, take away their flag.

"You all know the rules," Beomgyu watches as an older man walks to the center, his voice loud and crystal clear despite the fact that he isn't carrying a microphone. An echo, Beomgyu notes to himself, eyes someone that can elicit loud and deafening screams that can leave anyone collapsing because it hurts too much to listen to them.

"Be quick on your feet if you want to stay alive in the game. If any of you will concede in the middle of the competition, points will get deducted from your score. The first one to rip the flag from the other team will be the _winners."_

_Winners._

That word feels so right when it falls from Beomgyu's lips. He doesn't want to lose tonight, even if he has to put his entire self at the line. He can't lose to someone like Yeonjun.

Beomgyu feels something tug so harshly at his heartstrings when the name passed through his head. A fleeting thought but it still left him with a scowl as his eyes fall on the other team. Even with the players that are gathered, he can't seem to stop himself from staring at Yeonjun at the far side.

His cheeks are flushed under the lights as his eyes are fixated on the man standing on the center. He looks goddamn attractive when he's standing there—teeth sinking onto his lower lip as a look of concentration flickers through his expression. Beomgyu would have been lost in gazing at him for far too long if Yeonjun didn't meet his eyes.

Yeonjun arches a brow at him before an amused smile curves along his lips. God, why does he have to be so pretty?

It'd be a shame to ruin a pretty face like that.

It takes a moment before Beomgyu feels a shiver run down his spine, taking his attention away from Yeonjun. The other boy has his back turned on him already—his golden strands look absolutely breathtaking as he runs his fingers through them. It's so easy for him to ignore everything else and start quietly assessing every movement of his own teammates, as if he's slowly building a plan in his head.

 _Focus._ Beomgyu breathes out through gritted teeth. _Stop thinking about him._

A sharp whistle rings through the stands and all at once, the stadium falls quiet. The same man that talked to them before stands right at the center as he raises a flag. Glints of mischief dances through the darkness in his eyes as he lifts his chin.

"So many people wanted to be a part of history today but we have only chosen the best of the best. But not everyone will be able to come out as winners—where's the fun in that, after all?" He casts a glance at the players facing each other, raising the flag over his head.

"Stay alive, players. May the best team win."

As another sharp whistle bursts through the stadium, Beomgyu stumbles backward at the piercing scream. He falls into a dazed state, a shudder running through his body as he covers his ears with his hands, blocking out whatever sound that keeps on echoing.

Oh god, what was happening?

Beomgyu takes a step backward and a yell rips out of his throat when vines tangle themselves around his ankles. He didn't even realize that the terrain had shifted already as the illusionists pulled them through a rainforest with the greenery stretching itself out for miles. He sinks right into the ground, his heart rising to his throat in panic as the flag presses itself further against his hip. He can't move—why can't he move?

"This is too easy."

A scoff resonates over the sound of the forest above their heads. "I honestly expected more of a bloodbath today. This is too boring." 

He doesn't recognize the voices but he can't help but feel his heart crash against his rib cage. Through his panic, he tugs on the vines, trying to untangle them but they're still wound around his ankles. No matter what he does, it's as if they're tightening their hold around his legs.

"Stop resisting so much—"

The words fall away as a crash resonates behind him. Casting a look over his shoulder, he sees two boys crumbling to the floor as Taehyun hastily runs to him, the anger set in his eyes and his lips twisted into a scowl.

"Hyung, did I not tell you to stay on your feet?"

"You told me _not_ to die."

Taehyun only levels a glare at him as he cuts through the vines with a quick burn from the fire laying itself on his palm. There's a quiet hiss that leaves Beomgyu's lips when he feels the younger boy's flames graze against his skin but he can't find it in himself to complain—he's not going to die because of a little spark.

"Hyung—"

The terrain shifts so quickly that even Taehyun is taken away by the illusionists. Beomgyu feels the rise of panic through his body as he stumbles right into a rooftop of a building. The ground is falling apart—the cement is breaking apart with the stones chipping off every time Beomgyu makes a move. One wrong step, Beomgyu would fall to his death without another breath to apologize for his sins.

Taking a deep breath, he shifts onto one of the wooden planks that looks like it's going to break completely if too much weight lays itself on it. It's the only saving grace he has right now to run over to the other decrepit building's rooftop. He doesn't have a choice—he can't stay in one place unless the other team winds up at his path and corners him. He's not going to give any of them the advantage over him right now.

"Oh, look who we have here."

The wind drifts through his skin, the coldness sinking right through his spine as his gaze flickers over to the voice. He can feel the storm of the emotions within him as he eyes the other boy with his jaw clenching. Out of all the people, why does it have to be Yeonjun who'll see him in a place like this? When he's on the verge of falling right through the broken boards?

Another strong wind comes through and Beomgyu raises a hand, forcing the air to fall still around him. But he can still see it harshly slamming against Yeonjun's body, his blonde strands covering his eyes before he runs a frustrated hand through them. "Ah, fucking hell. This is such a bothersome."

Beomgyu knows that there's a thin line between being brave and being absolutely _foolish_ that you would not think of what's going to happen next. Because right now, he's crossing the boards over to the younger boy, footsteps so light and even Beomgyu is thrown by surprise when Yeonjun lunges at him. They crash right into the next building's rooftop and the plank crumbles into pieces, falling right into the ground with a sickening thud.

Oh god, that could have been him. That could have been Beomgyu falling to the ground.

"Choi Beomgyu, I had high hopes for you." A hand wraps itself around his throat and he feels the panic rise again when he sees Yeonjun pinning him against the floor. A sharp pain runs through his cheek when the older boy's knuckles collide with the side of Beomgyu's face.

Another laugh falls from his lips as he lets his fingers drift down Beomgyu's side, already on his way to ripping that flag away. "You told me that the next time we fight, you wouldn't make it so easy for me to do this."

"Who said that this is going to be easy?"

In a snap, Beomgyu rams his knee against Yeonjun's stomach before his own knuckles crash along the older boy's jaw. He doesn't wait for a heartbeat to pass before he pushes Yeonjun down onto the floor, his eyes as dark as the gray skies hanging over their heads as he locks him onto the ground.

"Don't fucking move, Yeonjun." As if to make a point, Beomgyu moves forward to grip his throat, squeezing just enough that for a second, the fear runs through Yeonjun's eyes. 

For a moment, Beomgyu feels like he's only a touch away from ripping Yeonjun's flag. But a sharp whistle rings through the atmosphere, forcing him to stumble back in shock as he covers his ears so quickly. It echoes all around him and his body feels like it's falling apart into so many pieces—his eyes tightly shut as he curls up into his own body.

The terrain shifts all around him and Beomgyu can feel the rough wind drift through his clothes. It's supposed to be a feeling that he's already familiar with but instead, he can't help but feel like his body is going to crash. Another shiver goes through his body as his eyes slowly drift open. A gasp falls from his lips as he roughly kicks his feet, his heart rushing to his throat. Rocks tip over right at the edge, plummeting right into the endless sea of mist and nothingness. He can't even hear the crash of _anything_ at the bottom. 

Why is he on the edge of the cliffs now? Why does everything feel so real right now?

"I need to go," Beomgyu hastily pulls himself to his feet, scratching his arm against the nearby sharp rock. A wince falls from his lips as he sees the blood rushing down his skin but he can't focus on it—every little delay means that he's going to be vulnerable out in the open.

"Finally," He hears a groan behind him, forcing him to take into a defensive stance at once. A girl with cat-like eyes and blonde strands smiles widely at him as she crosses the short distance between them, "I've been looking for you, Choi Beomgyu."

He recognizes her—she's the one who can make anything explode as soon as she makes contact with it, as long as she wills it to be. She's deadly and cutthroat at winning any kind of victory and right now, she feels more like a predator waiting to sink her nails onto her prey. "Stay back, Ryujin." Beomgyu grips the flag against his hip. It's starting to feel like it's fragile and easy to break—anyone could steal it if he isn't paying attention.

"Where are the others? They're doing a terrible job in this."

As if to make a point, she delicately places her hand a boulder and in a second, it shatters into a thousand sharp pieces. She's fast enough to reach out and grab hold of every piece before throwing them at Beomgyu without a beat of hesitation. Beomgyu feels a surge of panic through his body as he dodges every rock, roughly swinging his hand to send a strong gust of wind. 

That seems to be enough to knock her over, forcing her to collide against the rocky floor. But it isn't enough to leave him with rough cuts along his cheek and his arm—the stinging pain leaves him more lightheaded than ever. Breathing out shakily, he watches as she rises, a slight limp in her leg because of a sharp rock that lodged itself against it.

"You know I've been going easy on you, Beomgyu." There's a spark of flame in her eyes as she narrows them. "Hand over the flag unless you want to fall from this cliff."

"You're insane—are you planning to push me?"

Beomgyu takes an unsteady step away from her. All he sees is an amused smile along her lips as she drops to the ground, a hand already grazing along a few smooth rocks. "We've fought for so many times in the dome, Beomgyu. Do you not know who I am yet?" Without waiting for a heartbeat, she slams her knuckles against the surface and all at once, the cliffs _explode._

His eyes widen as he realizes that she's cut off the side of the cliff that he's standing on. Beomgyu rushes forward in air, tying the wind beneath his feet as he reaches out, fingers just barely grasping the very edge of the cliff that's still intact. He hears it this time—the sickening crunch of the rocks ramming against the cliffs before they fall straight to the ground. 

He can't quiet down the sound of his heartbeat echoing through his body. His fingers are quivering as they struggle to keep his weight afloat. The flag is almost on its way to tipping right out of his belt—if he reaches down to secure it against his hip, he's only going to give her the advantage to push him further down the cliff. Taking a deep breath, he glances at the flag again before he flicks his wrist, using the wind to help balance the tipping flag.

"I'm surprised that you're still alive. I guess you've gotten better the last time I fought with you."

There's the sound of the boots slamming against the rocks loudly—it echoes around the strangely silent cliffs as she walks closer to him, crouching down to see him still struggling to keep himself from falling. A hint of malice flickers through her eyes as she raises a boot, slamming it against Beomgyu's fingers. A pained cry falls from Beomgyu's lips as he tries to carry more of his weight, pushing himself up but he can't do it—he's growing too tired too quickly. 

"Come on, Beomgyu—you don't want to die here, right? Surely, you'd let your pride go if it means that you're alive, right?"

A wide smile curves upon her lips as she readies herself to ram her boot against his fingers again but out of nowhere, there's something that rushes so fast that it crashes against her body. Her screams are cut off and Beomgyu is now even more afraid—it's different when you know who's out there to kill you. But right now, he doesn't have any idea and he's absolutely defenseless as he hangs from the cliff.

"Beomgyu, you _idiot!"_

Despite the exhaustion wrapping itself around his bones, he lets out an annoyed sigh. Of course, it's Yeonjun that collides into his path again. He sinks his nails onto the small gaps of the rocky surface, just enough that he wouldn't fall to the ground.

Yeonjun comes into view, beads of sweat running down the side of his face and Beomgyu finally catches sight of his bruised cheek and his busted lip. He doesn't seem to care about those though—he's already on his way to grabbing hold of Beomgyu.

"Didn't your brothers teach you how to protect yourself? How can you be fucking _stupid_ to stay on the edge of the cliff?"

"Get your hands off me, Yeonjun—!"

"I don't want to see you die in here!"

That seems to make them fall into a silence that stretches between them. Beomgyu only gazes at him with wide eyes as Yeonjun stares back at him with a clenched jaw as he holds onto Beomgyu's arms.

"This is only an illusion. No one dies in here." 

Beomgyu shakily breathes out. He wants to sound like he's convincing Yeonjun but now, his words sound more like a desperate reassurance to quiet down the echo of his heartbeat through his body. Yeonjun takes a moment to consider his words but he only shakes his head, pulling Beomgyu just enough so the younger boy can get a tighter grip of the surface.

"I know this is only an illusion," He gazes down at Beomgyu and under the gray skies, he sees it—he sees the worry in Yeonjun's eyes. "I'm not going to test out the theory if anyone can die in an illusion."

And so, with a grunt, Beomgyu places his feet on a few rocky steps, hauling himself up. Yeonjun guides him, making sure if he tips over, he would have a tight grip of Beomgyu's body. He can feel Yeonjun's warmth wrapped around his own figure and he finds himself unknowingly leaning in. It's strange how he finds it comforting to have him so near.

Beomgyu finally resurfaces to the edge, crashing right into the edge again. He sees the same girl just inches away from them, completely passed out on the ground.

"She won't wake up soon."

He sees the chance—they're both vulnerable right now. No one else seems to be around and Yeonjun is still looking at him with worry, without a hint of malice in his eyes.

Beomgyu almost feels sorry for what he's about to do. _Almost._

Without a warning, Beomgyu throws his body and grabs hold of Yeonjun's collar, pushing him down onto the rocky ground. He pins him down with the entirety of his body—he's so, so thankful for the rush of adrenaline right now. It's the only reason why he's still keeping a clear head and why he still has the strength to fight Yeonjun.

He expected a flicker of betrayal on Yeonjun's expression but instead, the older boy only tips his head back with a laugh. It resonates all around them as Beomgyu hastily grabs hold of a sharp piece of a rock, pressing it against his throat.

"Of course, you'd do something like this."

Yeonjun doesn't seem like he wants to fight anymore. He only raises his gaze to Beomgyu, the pattern of their breathing tangling with each other. It's still so strange for Beomgyu that there's something about this—the feeling of Yeonjun's body against his and the way he looks at him like that.

Why is he looking at him like he's okay with Beomgyu taking the win?

"Don't move or else— I'll— I'll kill you!"

He doesn't mean those words, of course. As much as he loves the rush of adrenaline of fighting in a dome, he never wants to injure them to the point of death already. And Yeonjun seems to hear the hesitation beneath the surface of his tough exterior because he laughs again. The rock is pressing dangerously close to Yeonjun's throat and if he makes a wrong move, Beomgyu could _kill_ him.

"You're so beautiful, do you know that?"

That's when Beomgyu falters as he loosens his hold on the rock. What did Yeonjun say to him? He's beautiful?

He shouldn't have let his words take a hold of him because now, Yeonjun has enough strength to push him off, forcing him to crash to the ground. A wince spills from his lips as Yeonjun pins him down this time, using his entire body weight to hold him down. His hand is already brushing along Beomgyu's side, reaching to tug off the loosened flag from his belt.

"How many times do I have to teach you, Beomgyu," There's the glint of mischief in his eyes as he stares down at the younger boy with a smile. "Don't let the enemy distract you."

"Isn't that what's happening right now? Why are you letting me distract you?"

Yeonjun is fast but he's not fast enough to realize the weight of Beomgyu's words. Because now, the younger boy sends a punch against his stomach, making sure that it's strong enough to send the wind colliding against Yeonjun's body as he crashes onto the ground. Beomgyu reaches out and lets the wind circle around the loosened flag from Yeonjun's belt, ripping it hastily before he extends a hand, fingers wrapping around it.

"Ah, fuck!" 

Beomgyu holds onto the flag with a bright smile, the relief settling in his bones. He sees Yeonjun pressed up against a huge boulder, looking dazed as he stares numbly at the flag in Beomgyu's rough fingers.

Another sharp whistle echoes through and this time, the cliffs slowly dissipate inch by inch. Beomgyu raises an arm to block out the bright lights of the stadium as he holds the flag against his chest. A deafening cheer resounds all throughout and Beomgyu can't help but feel so relieved.

He won. 

He actually _won._

"Hyung!" 

He feels a body crash against his own and a laugh that follows after. He catches sight of Taehyun's red hair before he sees the wide smile that curves along his lips. "You did it! We won!" 

Beomgyu doesn't know what he's supposed to say—is he more relieved about the grass of the field pressing itself against his body? Or is he more relieved over the fact that he's alive and he won? Tightening his hold around the flag, he realizes that perhaps, it's none of those options.

As his eyes sweep along the players, he sees him. He sees Yeonjun being escorted out of the stadium, leaning heavily against the healers with the back of his head patched up with a gauze. But even then, it seems like the blood is seeping through it.

A frown graces his lips at the sight of it. Did he go too far this time around?

* * *

Beomgyu doesn't know why he's here.

He still has time to turn around and leave, take up Soobin's offer to take him out for a celebration for his win. Or maybe he can still catch up to Taehyun and Kai and talk to them—tell them about the story of what happened in the game.

But instead, he's right here in the tiny clinic, standing in the narrow hallway. He even bought a bouquet of flowers that he apparently says the words _get well soon_ in flower language for god's sake—why is he doing this? He's not supposed to be worried about Yeonjun. The older boy can take a few hits and it's not like he was on the verge of death in the game.

So, why does Beomgyu feel guilty?

 _105,_ Beomgyu murmurs the room number to himself, pressing the bouquet against his chest. His heart still hasn't fallen quiet—it's an angry collision of cacophonous beats that resonates in Beomgyu's ears. It's loud enough to silence the sound of his own shoes against the hallway.

He stands right outside of the room, reaching out to grip the silver doorknob. It feels cold and he can't stop the shiver that circulates through his body. A reminder of what he's supposed to do right now.

With a shaky sigh, he gathers the remnants of courage within him, pushing the door open. He's greeted with the sight of the blonde haired boy against the bed, his head delicately placed against the pillow and his body hidden beneath a frail blanket. Beomgyu quietly closes the door behind him as he gingerly approaches him, crossing what little distance left between them.

He has never seen Yeonjun this fragile before. Yeonjun is always so strong that a few cuts and bruises wouldn't stop him from taking a win. He's dangerously as competitive as the younger boy, that's why it's always entertaining to see them fight.

But right now, Yeonjun is resting against a hospital bed and Beomgyu can only sit on the edge, watching him with a frown. He lays the bouquet on the table pressed against the bed before he turns to the older boy. He hesitates for a moment, finally reaching out to gently brush his fingers through the blonde strands.

They're so soft and silky and Beomgyu can't help but feel his lips twitch into a smile.

"Why are you here, Beomgyu?"

The fear of getting caught chases after him, taking a hold of him as he withdraws his hand from Yeonjun. The older boy lets his eyes flutter open, finally looking at him with a subtle smile drawn across his lips. There's no hint of arrogance or even the smallest detail of mischief in his eyes—he looks like he's content.

"Why did you stop? I like it when you play with my hair."

Oh god, this is even _more_ embarrassing. Beomgyu didn't mean to do that—he's not even supposed to be here. He's supposed to be out celebrating his win for the team and for winning against Yeonjun. Isn't that what he wanted in the first place?

"I just wanted to check up on you. I need to go now."

Beomgyu is already on his way to stumble out of the bed but instead, he feels Yeonjun's fingers wrapping themselves around his wrist. He pauses, glancing at the other boy with furrowed brows and a frown curved along his lips.

"Come on, you came all the way here and you're going to leave in a minute? Stay with me."

The dark haired boy scoffs, obediently settling back on the side of the bed as Yeonjun continues to hold onto his wrist. He doesn't even bother pulling away when Yeonjun reaches down to hold his hand properly, their fingers easily slipping through the empty spaces.

He doesn't even have the energy anymore to throw an insult to Yeonjun. It's five in the morning and all Beomgyu wants to do is fall asleep and let his body rest for the remnants of the morning. 

"Come here, you can sleep beside me."

Beomgyu throws a confused look at him, lips twisted into a frown. "What are you talking about?" All he receives in response is Yeonjun rolling his eyes as he tugs on Beomgyu's hand until the younger boy finally settles next to him on the tiny bed.

"We're both tired after the fight. You can't walk all the way to your own house unless you want to collapse in exhaustion."

He wants to remain prideful—it's the only thing that he's got right now after all. But as Yeonjun wraps his arms around his frame, pulling him backwards until he's pressed flush against his chest, he feels himself yearning for the warmth. He unwillingly lets himself indulge in the feeling of their bodies pressed up against each other as Yeonjun lays his forehead against his shoulder.

"Is this a truce? After all the fighting?"

Yeonjun laughs against his shoulder, their fingers once again brushing together before he ends up holding Beomgyu's ice-cold fingers. "Is that how you ask me out on a date?"

"I'm not asking you on a date!"

"Well, I am." Beomgyu lets his eyes flicker over his shoulder, seeing Yeonjun inch closer until they're facing each other. There's a sincere smile drawn across Yeonjun's lips as he gives the younger boy's hand a gentle squeeze. "I think it's just fair to do that after I called you beautiful in the middle of a fight."

Beomgyu can't will down the blush that rose to his cheeks after hearing his words, forcing him to grit his teeth. "You're so stupid. What makes you think I'd go on a date with you?" 

"You like me enough that you're right here though."

A breathy sigh falls from his lips as he turns to face Yeonjun properly. He can't stop his heart from ramming itself against his chest as Yeonjun smiles at him, his eyes bright under the fluorescent lights.

_He's so pretty._

"Fine. We'll go out on a date after your bruises heal." Beomgyu reaches out with his free hand, his thumb grazing along the small cut on Yeonjun's lip. The older boy only leans against his hand in search of his warmth as a wide smile curves along his lips.

"I think you should kiss me. Maybe they'll heal faster if you do that."

"I don't kiss people before a first date." Beomgyu draws out, feeling his eyes become heavier with sleep. He can see Yeonjun shifting closer to him and he feels a strange lightness settling in his rib cage when Yeonjun leans in to softly brush his lips against his forehead. Just a soft and fleeting kiss on the forehead but it somehow left Beomgyu with his heart falling to his feet.

He lets his eyes flutter open just enough so he could gaze at him with a slight smile. "But I think I could make an exception." With that, he leans in to close the distance between them, capturing his lips in a kiss. It's gentle and slow—it's so unlike them. They've always been so rough that Beomgyu always thought that they wouldn't fit well.

But as Yeonjun holds him closer, kissing him in a way that leaves Beomgyu melting in his arms. He reaches out and lets his fingers drift through his strands, letting the golden morning light slip through the window hanging above their heads.

In the strangest way there is, this feels right. Like this is where Beomgyu wants to stay.

Maybe it isn't so bad to be with someone like Yeonjun. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! feel free to talk to me in [twitter.](http://twitter.com/yeomgyus)


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